


King and Lionhearts

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Series: Murder and Consequences [8]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 04:40:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8190433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: He was going to catch up to them eventually.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, this series should have just been called the ‘Everybody Sleeps All The Time Except Dick’ series, haha. Idea/feeling of the fic based on ‘King and Lionheart’ by Of Monsters and Men. Damian the king, obviously, and Dick, Jason and Tim the lionheart.

Jason was pulled from sleep by a ringing phone.

Wasn’t weird. After he’d found out Dick had taken their batteries out in a fit of some sort of protective rage, he’d scolded the eldest, and put them back in himself. Even kept them charged, out of blatant spite.

It was Dick’s phone ringing, and he waited to hear his counterpart roll over to grab it, like he had that first day they were here, when Tim called about the security footage. When he didn’t hear Dick move, he opened the eye not shoved into the pillow, fully expecting Dick’s side of the bed to be completely empty.

What, did Dick really think he didn’t know?

But to his surprise – Dick was right there. Flat on his back, an arm tight around Damian’s shoulders, who was tucked comfortably into his oldest brother’s side. Both in the deepest sleep they’d had since they got to Central City, safely curled up in the same heavy, warm blanket as Jason.

The ringtone stopped, and Jason sighed. Closing his eye again and rolling closer to Damian’s back.

Suddenly, _his_ phone was ringing.

He blinked his eyes open again, stared at his brothers for a moment, before flopping over to his nightstand, blindly grabbing the phone and holding it up to read a name.

_Tim._

He frowned, and forced himself not to think the worst as he pressed a button and held it to his ear.

“Please tell me it’s not bad.”

“He tracked you.” Tim sounded breathless, even as Jason heard the whoosh of wind around him. Sounded like he was on a bike. Sounded like he was racing down a road as fast as possible. “Bruce found you guys, _you have to run._ ”

So much for thinking positive.

Jason was already up, throwing the comforter back, and slapping harshly at Dick’s knee as he kicked around on the ground for his pants. Dick stirred, just as he found them and threw them on, just as Jason leaned across the bed and plucked Damian out of his arm.

“How long we got?” Jason asked Tim, ignoring Dick’s own grumbling questions. Damian was awake too, but still mostly dead weight as Jason maneuvered him in his arms. He hummed in confusion, and Jason cooed gently, “Just hang on to my neck, Damian.”

“Not sure. He’s been running programs and systems for days. Since he got back from Clark’s farm.” Tim rambled. Jason heard a car horn in the background. “He was in Russia when he called me with the update – I don’t know what route he’s taking back.”

“Good enough. Thanks, Timbo.”

And he was hanging up, just as Tim tried to quickly add, _“I’m on my way too, to try and cut him o-”_

“Jason, what’s wrong?” Dick, of course, was already wide awake and focused. Probably already knew the answer, since he was already picking up the bag of clothes they had ready for this very reason. All they had to do was pack the food and get the hell out of Dodge.

“Big Bat’s a’comin’.” Jason droned pleasantly, pulling the hood of the sweatshirt that Damian rarely took off up over his head, making sure his face was hidden securely against his throat. “Timmy doesn’t have a timeframe.”

“So leave as fast as possible.” Dick returned, just as nonchalantly, as he grabbed his own jeans. As he tried to button them with one hand, he tossed the duffle bag to Jason, which he caught with his free hand. “You get the clothes and the package to the car, I’ll get the food.”

“The _package_.” Jason snorted, turning out of the room, walking slowly to gently rock Damian, even as Dick rushed past and into the kitchen. He dropped the strap of the bag onto his shoulder, and moved over to the table to grab his guns. “Is that what we’re calling him now? What are we, the _Secret Service?”_

“Oh, Jay, you know as well as I do.” Dick grinned over his shoulder, watching Jason balance his holsters on the top of the bag. “Kiddo’s much more important than the damn _president_.”

Jason raised a fist. “I hear that.”

Damian groaned, and when Jason glanced down, Damian’s eyes were still closed. Still trying to sleep, like a pouty royal baby. “You two are _ridiculous_.”

“Ahhh,” Jason nodded, before ducking down and kissing Damian’s forehead. “Guess you just bring out the best in us.”

Damian didn’t respond, but Jason felt the quick twitch of Damian’s fingers against the back of his neck.

“Just keep your face against my neck, and that hood up.” Jason instructed gently, moving quickly to the door. Carefully balancing to slide his feet into his boots. “You want the trunk popped, Dick?”

“Please.” Dick called, over the racket of dumping food into a box. “And don’t come back in to _help_ , Jay. You keep Damian in your sight at all times.”

“Not planning on putting him down.” Jason admitted.

“Good. And…Jay?” Jason stopped, looked back with his hand on the doorknob. Dick’s face was dark and serious. “Have your guns ready.”

Jason ignored the sudden stutter of his heart, and nodded, throwing the door open.

It was still mostly dark outside, the world a cool blue. Jason could feel the dew settling on the nearby foliage, could hear the birds getting ready to greet the sun.

Damian inhaled, like he was trying to wake himself up, and Jason just instinctively held the back of his head.

“…Do you think he’s bringing the cops?” Damian whispered quietly. “Or do you think he’s just going to arrest me himself?”

“…No.” Jason answered simply, walking around to the driver side door of the car. He wrenched it open, and leaned down to find the button to open the trunk. “And Batman doesn’t have arresting power. He isn’t a real cop.”

“Then he’ll just tie me to a streetlight and leave me here for Gordon, then.” Damian returned. To anyone else, it’d sound sarcastic, or like a joke. But Jason knew it was neither. Knew the kid was truly frightened by the idea. “Beat me up before he does it, so I won’t be able to fight the bonds.”

“Bruce would _never_ hit you.” Jason swore, when he heard the pop of the trunk. He winced right after, though. Because Bruce had hit Dick before. He’d hit _him_ before, and Tim. Didn’t know about the girls, but wouldn’t put it past the Dark Knight, if he was honest.

But it was when they were all older. Mostly grown. Not when they were eleven.

(Still left a bad taste in his mouth, though.)

“Just…it’s not important, Damian. Okay?” Jason sighed, moving around the car again. He grunted as he shifted the bag from his open shoulder, and dropped it into the trunk. “Because he’s not going to find us.”

Jason felt Damian’s hands squeeze again. “…You don’t know that.”

“Have a little faith, alright?” Jason almost begged as he picked up his holsters, and moved around to the passenger side of the car. As he did, Dick came out the door, now in his jacket, box shoved full with food and drinks awkward in his arms. As Dick passed, Jason spun around to watch him. “So, where we heading?”

“Don’t know.” Dick grunted, dropping the box alongside the duffle. “North, maybe? I hear Vancouver’s nice. Or south. Florida wouldn’t be bad, I guess. Don’t think Damian’s ever been to Disney. That could be fun.” He grinned, as he ran back towards the house. “Couple more things.”

Jason hummed in return, looking back down at the car. He glanced between the front seat and back, and eventually sighed, opening the back door.

He dropped his holsters on the floor, pushing them slightly beneath the seat, then held the back of Damian’s head while he climbed in himself, and plopped down on the bench seat. He immediately closed the door, and took in the immediate silence.

Dick would probably insist on driving anyway.

Dick appeared seconds later, a couple odds and ends jumbled together in his arms. Phone chargers, some of Jason’s books, his escrima sticks, soap, and…the bed comforter?

Most of it was thrown into the trunk, and the car shook when Dick slammed it shut. Suddenly the back door opposite of Jason opened, and the giant comforter was being thrown in.

“Remind me to buy you and your outlaws a new one.” Dick asked, as he shut the door and then fell into the driver’s seat, tossing his escrima onto the floor of the passenger side.

“Will do. Model year or newer.” Jason joked.

Dick looked back at him with a laugh, as he started the car. “…He okay like that?”

Jason glanced down at the bundle in his arms, feeling a bit of relief knowing that, if anyone looked at them, they wouldn’t be able to tell he was holding a child.

“Hmm.” Jason wondered aloud. “…Hey, Damian, how about you lay down on the seat? Might be more comfortable for you to go back to sleep.”

Damian nodded silently, and as Dick pulled away from the apartment, Jason helped settle him along the back of the car. As Jason fluttered the comforter around the little boy, Damian shifted a little, pressing his face against Jason’s thigh, to use it as a pillow. Jason didn’t deny him, just helped him twist until his face was hidden against Jason’s shirt. As soon as they were both comfortable, Jason leaned his arm along the window, exhaling as they slowly drove through the apartment lot.

“…Door will lock automatically, right?” Dick asked quietly, glancing into the rearview mirror. “I’m sure Roy has tech in there still that he doesn’t want stolen.”

“Yup.” Jason said simply, carefully draping his arm over Damian’s back. “…How do you think he got our trail?”

“Could be anything. Found the tracker on the car we sank. Security cameras in those stores. Got a hold of Roy. I don’t know.” Dick hummed, already fiddling with the radio station. “Doesn’t matter, though, so don’t worry about it. Get some rest, Jay. You need it.”

“I could say the same to you.” Jason countered.

Dick grinned. “Ah, Damian got you on that train, huh?”

“He didn’t have to. I’m not blind.” Jason almost snapped. “You’re going to burn yourself out at the rate you’re going.”

“And then I won’t be able to protect you and Damian, I know, I know.” Dick rolled his eyes, but Jason knew he was taking him seriously. “Jason – I promise. I’m just going to drive until we’re out of the state and away from Central City. Then I’m going to pull over somewhere, and I’ll sleep while you two eat or something, and then we’ll figure out a real direction together this afternoon.”

“…Hm.” Jason pursed his lips, and looked out his window. There weren’t many cars on the road this early, and the ones that were there, their drivers didn’t even look at them. “…Which direction are we going?”

“I’ll figure that out when we hit the highway.” Dick reiterated. “Now sleep, Little Wing. And if you’re going to be stubborn and not do that, then read to Damian and me. I threw a book back there with the blanket.”

“…I’d better sleep.” Jason admitted, knowing if he stayed up, his guilt would eat away at him, and he’d lash out at Dick, for all he’s doing for them. “I’ll read to your lame ass when I wake up.”

Dick laughed again, and turned up the music. It was Jason’s genre, all the way. Probably a subtle apology for making Jason and Damian worry. Jason tentatively accepted, as he leaned his head against the window, and let his eyes droop.

And it was only minutes later. They weren’t even on the interstate, when Damian shifted a little. Didn’t sit up or anything, but tugged carefully at Jason’s shirt.

“Todd?”

Jason sat up immediately, hunching over to listen to Damian’s quiet voice.

“Hm?”

“…Grayson said I can tell you when I’m…feeling things.” Damian muttered. He glanced up, and Jason just stared into his haunted little eyes.

“You sure can.” Jason whispered. He sensed Dick look back at them, but didn’t pay him any mind. “What’s up?”

Damian kept looking up at him, face so skeleton-like Jason almost wanted to look away. But he didn’t. Instead, just kept gently running his thumb along Damian’s shoulder.

“I…” He breathed. “I’m scared.”

He didn’t need to elaborate. He was scared of his father finding them, of the cops descending on them. Of what he did, of himself. Of everything, right now, probably.

Jason only glanced up for a second, and saw Dick was clinging to the steering wheel in a white-knuckle grip. Either in resolve to keep them all safe, or fury at Bruce, Jason didn’t ask. Didn’t care, really.

“That’s okay.” Jason cooed instead. “Because guess what?”

Damian watched him hopefully.

“Dickie and I are too.” Jason smiled. He sat back again, and watched as Damian paused, before nodding and ducking his face back against Jason’s shirt.

~~

Bruce was already there by the time Tim pulled into the complex. He was standing outside of a door, tablet in hand, his bike thrown to the ground like he’d jumped off it without a care. In full Batman gear, and Tim could only frown.

“Batman,” He called, ripping his helmet off. Bruce didn’t look up. “I don’t think-”

He didn’t get the thought out, though, as he heard a beep from the machine in Bruce’s hand, and suddenly, his elder was grabbing the doorknob and throwing it open.

Tim bit his lip, and dismounted his bike, running into the apartment after him.

He stopped in the kitchen, and listened as Bruce tore through the apartment. He glanced around the room as he waited, and saw signs of life. There were dirty glasses on the counter, a drawer half open. He bet if he turned on the television in the corner, it would be to a station with comedies or cartoons, like Dick enjoyed.

Bruce bumbled out of the bedroom, clutching the wall like he’d been hurt. In his other hand, Tim noticed a piece of paper. “…They’re…not here.”

“…No.” Tim murmured, shoulders dropping. And Bruce didn’t catch his relief. “They’re not.”

“I don’t understand.” Bruce breathed. Suddenly he held up the paper, and Tim could only see a few words scribbled across it. “How did they know I was coming?”

Bruce moved across the room, and handed the paper over when Tim reached his hand out. It was from Dick, the chicken scratch made that obvious, even before he read the words.

_Sorry, Bruce. -D_

And it was wrong, Tim knew. Because Bruce didn’t need to know. He could just let Bruce believe that his eldest sons were that smart and got away fair and square.

But Tim couldn’t lie. Not to Bruce. Not about this.

“…Because.” He whispered, leaning against the fridge. Bruce looked at him in curiosity. “…I called them.”

Bruce’s mouth dropped open in surprise, and, after a second, Tim gulped as he watched his hand turn into a fist.

“You _what_?”

“Tracking them like they’re criminals? Breaking into their house?” Tim pleaded. “That’s…that’s not how we should be doing this!”

Bruce’s jaw clenched.

“Damian’s a mess, according to Dick. Is this really how you want him to see you, after everything?” Tim asked, and Bruce’s features softened. “You heard what he said after Jason found him – he believes you’re going to _hate_ him.” A pause. “And even if they were here, it’d only end with you and Dick – and probably Jason – fighting and I…I just don’t think that’s what Damian needs. What _any of us_ , need.”

Bruce inhaled sharply.

“I want to find them as badly as you do, but.” Tim sighed. “Not this way, B.”

Silence.

“They need time. _We_ need time, _you_ need time.” Tim continued. “The way it is now, Dick’s on the defensive, and any meeting that’s not his or Jason’s or Damian’s idea will be seen as an attack, and they’ll keep running. They’ll keep thinking they’re in danger, or in trouble. So, let’s…start simple. Reach out. An email, a text. A voicemail. Tell them you understand. You understand that Damian needs time, and help, you understand why Dick and Jason did what they did. That you understand that this is _not Jason’s fault_.” He cleared his throat. “…Does that sound good? Start small and go from there?”

Bruce just stared.

“Bruce?”

Without warning, Bruce stomped forward. Tim pushed off the fridge, and tried to get in his path, and Bruce only bounced off his shoulder as he passed. Tim turned to follow, as they left the apartment, and even gently closed the door behind them.

Could only watch, as Bruce moved to his own motorcycle, picked it up and turned it on. He didn’t look at Tim, just harshly kicked off the break, turned the bike, and sped away. And Tim could only stare in worry, and whispered sadly:

“…Bruce?”


End file.
